My Daughters Michelle & Laura & Time Flies

When I was attempting to raise two daughters at 43 years of age (30 years ago), holding down a position which timed out as the worst I'd ever had (alligators in my office every morning), crazed wife on a Moped cruising over the desert hills singing, "I will survive," and me juggling a lousy salary and the presidency on the local school board....I lost an election within the household.
    Wife and two kids elected that they would go to "private school" run by ex-anti-war nuns and I was drafted to come up with the scratch to float it.
    Meanwhile my oldest needed a chauffeur on the weekends, wife wanted her "independence" and the youngest went Mustang. Brewing in my gut was an ulcer that would take me down in the 21st century.
    I was 43. My daughters were young - knew everything. One predicted a Supreme Court Slot, did so in the local newspapers. The other tried running away from home-on a horse. Later, changed her name to one.
    Today, 30 years later, I'm 73, and those two daughters have reached the exact same age I WAS THEN, when I was raisin them, going through all that bullshit, married with two kids at home, crisis du jour, bills, bulls, private school tuition, car payments, ulcer city at work.
    And they? One moved to Chicago and married a socialist, the other - well, the other is struggling.
    Some day, if they ever read this, I hope they understand that as of this day, they walk the earth in the same skin I did - right now, only without the burdens I carried, trying to do my job and balance their needs while feeding them love, support, caring and concern - as I still do, as their father.
    Walk in my shoes, today, as I did 30 years ago. I have not heard from the oldest for a quarter of a century.
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